Avada Kedavra
by Cunning Wisdom
Summary: AU  Draco is a Death Eater who kills Ginny because she is Potter's girlfriend.The story is what it might be like to kill someone using powerful Dark Arts. Its not sex, but it seems like it, its more comparable to Drug abuse though. Really Dark
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a one shot I wrote about Ginny and Draco. I have it labeled under romance as well as angst but its really more angst than anything. But it does has some strong sexual insinuations but absolutely NO SMUT. I really didn't know what to put it as. But any advice or support is welcome.

_Avada Kedavra…_

The world began to whirl around him so fast; it became nothing more than a blur of pleasure. It was incredible. Despite the dizzying speed of the whirling world, he could still make out the tiniest, most insignificant details that made his heart leap.

Like her smell. He had passed her once in the hallways at school. He remembered the smell of lavender that drifted up from the long red curls of her hair. He remembered how sensual it was. He remembered the way it made his body quiver with excitement. And that was just a hint. Now, with her lying beneath him, he could fully take in her glorious aroma. She was exquisite. The lavender perfume tangled and danced with her own fragrance, something sweet and sensual, like honey. The combination sent shivers down his spine. He was shaking now. She was such a woman, and he was such a man for taking her.

He opened his mouth to taste. His tongue snaked out between his pale pink lips and feasted on the air surrounding their bodies. She tasted like honey, sweet, pure, innocent honey. O, it was almost unbearably perfect. He let out a moan of pleasure, as he tasted the sweat on her skin without even having to kiss her. The bitterness tingled with the sugariness of her. They were so close now, and he knew they would never truly separate again. He would always be able to taste her, feel her, smell her, and see her. She belonged to Draco Malfoy now, forever.

He had never really noticed her eyes before. But now they were all he could see as he looked down on her lovely face. He had always known she was beautiful. Every boy who had ever met her knew she was beautiful. They always noticed how vibrant her flaming red hair was, or how lovely her porcelain skin looked as it was graced with lightly dusted freckles. He knew no one had ever seen her eyes though. They were a beautiful, deep sapphire blue that seemed to sparkle and glow. No, they did not just seem to glow, he was certain now that they really were glowing. All of the passion in her entire life came pouring out through those beautiful eyes. Her hatred was stirring below the surface, but more than anything, he could see her powerful, stop-you-dead-in-your-tracks love as it came pouring out of the pretty, blue stones, glowing with fire. He ignited that fire. This knowledge made his own cold, grey eyes began to warm and melt as he felt similar tears brimming. He briefly wondered if Potter had ever made her cry so beautifully. It didn't matter, because even if he had, he never would again.

The most overwhelming detail in the moment was something he had never thought would affect him so greatly. Every man had a certain weakness for beauty and every man's hormones reacted to smell and taste. But her warmth was what made him want to scream and cry out her name to the heavens. It was radiating from her body and warming him, and that, he knew, took an incredible amount of heat. He was always so cold, so chilled. She offered him all of her heat and he took it hungrily. He felt the fire rising in his chest and in his loins. He continued to soak all of her in, waiting for that peak that was to come, that moment when he would be completely consumed in the flame of passion. It was so close now.

He screamed her name out as that moment came. He closed his eyes and felt the whirlwind reach its climax. He moaned in blissful ecstasy as the every warming embers in his chest burst into glorious flames. Her scent engulfed him further as he dove into her hair, losing himself in her. It had never felt this good. He had never taken anyone so innocent before. He had Potter's little lover. He had her; he had taken her from Perfect Pothead Potter, and, _sweet Merlin_, did she feel good. He closed his eyes as the moment slowly ebbed away, enjoying his last few moments of happiness. He knew that he would never be able to feel this good again. He would always be able to taste her, feel her, smell her, and see her… even when he no longer wanted to.

It always seemed that the better it felt at first, the worse it felt later. He could smell her. She still smelt wonderful. Her honey lavender scented hair still wafted up to where he knelt above her. He shuddered knowing that she wouldn't always smell so beautiful and clean. He nearly cried knowing that he would still be able to smell her when she didn't. When her perfect flesh began to rot and reek, he would still be haunted by her honey lavender scent.

He looked into her beautiful eyes, praying to see that light that had shown so brightly only moments before. It was gone. Her sapphires were no longer tearing. They were no longer glowing. They were no longer… anything. Emptiness, cold dead emptiness, was all that was left in the eyes of the fiery redhead who had made his blood boil. Now his blood froze, along with hers.

Her warmth was fading away, more quickly by the second. For every degree she made his temperature rise, it seemed so much colder when she was gone. Her body became cold and stiffened. His body did as well. He could almost feel his own blood stop rushing and pause all together. He was certain his heart stopped beating. How else could he feel this cold?

He hated this part. Every time it came he swore to himself he was done. He told himself repeatedly that he would quit. It simply wasn't worth it. Every time he got the high, it would only bring him lower. If he stopped now, maybe his sins could be redeemed. But his sins were not looking for redemption. His body was too in love with the thrill. He knew he would do it again soon. He would say those words. He would say them so that for a moment he could forget the effects of saying them before. He would get his high only to fall even lower than before. It was an endless fall it seemed. It frightened him to think he could still fall lower.

He would kill so he could feel that power in living for one, perfect moment. That moment was the only thing he had. He hated his life, but he loved theirs. He loved feeling the passion they felt in their last few moments. It was feeling their emptiness afterwards that made him want to hurl. Dark Magic would do that. It didn't help that, despite what he liked to tell himself, he was still a kid, a teenager no less. He was too young, they all said, but his father had him addicted from early on. Lucius wanted his son to be as immersed in the Dark Arts as he was. Draco sometimes hated his father. He had never mentioned this part of the deal. But then, Draco knew it probably wouldn't have stopped him. How could anyone turn down the power to control life and death?

As he knelt there, next to what was once a person, he grimaced. Tears began to flow down his pale cheeks. He had never felt as wonderful as he did a few moments ago. The sensation of her life swimming before his eyes had brought him to his knees. But that also meant he had never felt so horrible as he did at this moment, and would for all of eternity. He briefly considered killing himself before tossing the idea aside with a bitter laugh. He had already died so many times along with each of his victims. It would not save him. He was beyond that realm.

He realized now that killing her had touched him deeper than any other murder. He wondered if he might have been able to love her. Maybe that was why it felt so powerful. It didn't matter, now. She was dead. And he was… he didn't know where he was. He wasn't dead, but he wasn't alive. He felt as if his soul was ripped to shreds, too mutilated for both heaven and hell. He wanted to be wherever she was. She seemed so happy when she left. He wished he could follow. But that would never happen. He was beyond the realm where life and death existed. He had interfered with the barrier too much. It didn't matter, though. It was too late now

He stood to return to his Master. He would be pleased to know that one more person in the hunt for Potter was out of the way. He turned to look once more at the body of a girl he once went to school with. She didn't seem so innocent anymore. Dark Magic will do that.

A/N: No, he did not have sex with her! That is the drug effect of using Dark Arts. I know it's a little confusing, if you have any suggestions do tell.

Please Review and tell me what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

The blazing fire seemed to have little effect on the grand and elaborate library that held it

OK, it was going to be a one-shot. But a lot of people didn't seem to like the whole death part….. Which is weird you know…. In an angst.

Anyhow, I began to wonder how I could build a relationship without ruining my story and more importantly my integrity …and ….I think I came up with something pretty cool….and YESSS very very angsty.

This is also my first attempt at um…ehem… sexy stuff so I hope it's not** too** awkward.

Confusing? I'll explain it in the next chapter.

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_The blazing fire seemed to have little effect on the grand and elaborate library that held it. After filling the five-foot tall hearth, the brightness of the flames could reach no further than a few feet, and was forced to resort to mere shadows on the floor to make its presence known. The warmth, even from so large a fire, was no match for the cold that seemed to hang in the air, ironically, like the humid heat of an English summer. An invisible wall of despair seemed to stand guard over the magnificent room, barely allowing the light to illuminate the stately chair and the cold, dead body that lay before it. In the chair sat what was once a strong young man, now passed out, with his wand hanging from his fingers and two words hanging from his lips:_

_Avada Kedavra…_

"You're dying."

The voice was small but it somehow made itself even larger than the room. The sweet sound surrounded him and filled him with a longing he forgot would never be satisfied.

"If I recall correctly," he replied a bit drunkenly, "You're already dead."

She began to laugh a perfect and most beautiful laugh. It started out soft and peaceful but grew deeper and stronger like a stream gaining momentum down a mountainside. She walked into the light and leaned against his chair so that he could see the flames dancing on her silky skin and fighting with her glory of her hair. Her loose dress hung almost magically onto every curve. It was colored lavender.

"Merlin, you are beautiful, the embodiment of every perfection."

She giggled again, softer this time. "I think you've used that one before, darling."

He didn't feel like arguing so he simply stared into her eyes, his favorite pastime. He loved to sit and joyfully watch every sparkle of silver and every hue of blue in the ocean, as they grew dark and stormy with lust. He lowered his eyes to the lush pink lips he so longed to kiss, and then lower still to her immaculate chest, moving up and down with her now rapid breaths.

"Take me," she moaned, climbing into his lap and grinding her hips into his hardness. He closed his eyes as she combed her finger through his platinum hair and seared his lips with a burning kiss. She fought his tongue with vim only a Gryffindor would dare to use and was rewarded with the feel of his hands sliding down her back and grasping her rocking hips. When she broke the kiss, they were both panting and groaning at the intense pleasure they both felt below.

"Please, Draco" – her hips sank deeper – "I need you" – her breasts bounced wildly – "Take me, Draco, take me now!"

"O Ginny," he moaned stretching his hands down to the hem of her dress, "Don't tease me, Ginny, please don't tease me." He pulled the thin fabric up her sultry legs and found her completely naked underneath. His finger trailed up her inner thigh, already moist with her arousal, and neared the treasure he had wished to touch for so long now. He wanted to open his eyes to look at her, the woman of his fantasies, his most precious love. He wanted to finally see those sparkling sapphire eyes as he pleasured her the way she deserved. He strained to open them, but they refused. He tried again, and they stayed closed. Finally he devoted his entire mind to the task and at last they opened.

But she was gone.

All he could see by the light of the dying fire was the barely illuminated body, lying dead at his feet.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thought that I would continue with the short chapters. I know that some authors go back and forth in the same one, but I think of this as more of add-ons to the actual story in chapter 1. So there will be lots of jumps: get over it.

Chapter 3

Harry Potter was lying in his warm bed in the Burrow, feeling anything but cozy. He turned towards his best friend Ron Weasley to find that he too was staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Ron," he whispered softly. The redhead grunted a brief reply, so he continued. "Do you think Hermione is ok all by herself?"

This time the young man turned over and looked his companion in the eye, something he hadn't done in what seemed like a long while. "I checked on her earlier, and I asked if she wanted me to sneak back later and stay with her, but she said no." He sounded rather hurt, as though any self-respecting woman would want to shag her boyfriend when her best friend's girlfriend has been missing for over a week.

"Well, I wouldn't worry, mate." Harry comforted perhaps a little more enthusiastically than genuinely. "She might just want to be alone to think, that's all." He looked pointedly in Ron's eyes as he continued: "Can't really say I don't relate."

But if Ron had gotten the hint, he apparently had decided that as Harry's best friend, it was his responsibility to ensure that he never had to spend a moment alone until his girlfriend came back. Or perhaps, Ron didn't want to spend a moment alone until his sister came back. Either way, Ron stayed in his bed and continued talking.

"Do you think Mum will have biscuits for breakfast tomorrow? I mean I like them all right and all, I just also have a certain affinity for variety." Harry did not respond. "Do you think if Moody and Remus get back ok from whatever mission their on, we can go back into town for more food? Where are they, anyhow? I know that we figured they'd go try to get rid of the dementors in London, but what if we're wrong? Shouldn't you of all people have a good idea of where everyone is? You're 18 now; you've been of age for a whole year. But still, here we are, trying to figure out whether we'll eat biscuits tomorrow like solving a bloody mystery. And do you think…"

"We should go find her." Harry broke in. Ron stopped his ponderings and looked at his troubled friend.

"What if that's exactly what he wants? Besides, we don't know enough. There's no telling what we'd find."

"We'd find her. That's all that matters: finding Ginny, dead or alive."

"And if it's the first one?"

"I at least want to know that she's at rest." Harry answered, sounding much more at ease with the possibility than his churning stomach indicated.

"Still." Ron seemed much more apprehensive now than six years ago when his sister was taken by Lord Voldemort. "Let's at least talk to Hermione first."


End file.
